


at the breakers' edge

by wrennette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Cody's life is marked by the rise and fall of the tide, the calling of the seabirds, the rush of the wind beneath the eaves.When a storm washes a boat up near his isolated cottage, Cody meets his new neighbor.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 187





	at the breakers' edge

**Author's Note:**

> title from henry beston's _the outermost house_.

The little stone hut at the meeting of land and sea comes cheap, when Cody finally leaves the army. He doesn't really have a plan - just a desire to not see another human being most days. Being so far from town means he won't see anyone unless he seeks them out, and he's more than okay with that. He knows it's a trauma response, and he's spoken to the appropriate professionals, but none quite convince him that becoming a recluse at the far end of nowhere is a bad idea. 

When Cody moves in, the place smells of old smoke and salt and decay. He sweeps and scrubs, and buys the makings of whitewash, then goes over the entire cottage until it's practically glowing. The solar panels he paid to have installed are already set up, so he just has to hook them into the battery and get a few other things connected before he has all the necessary conveniences of modern life.

Once he settles in a bit, he picks up fishing. He doesn't have much luck, although the sheer number of seals sunning themselves on the rocks indicates that there are plenty of fish around. He doesn't mind, and the seals are good company. He figures as long as they don't start talking back, he's alright. 

Cody's life is marked by the rise and fall of the tide, the calling of the seabirds, the rush of the wind beneath the eaves. Slowly, he unwinds. He sits out in front of the hut at night, and watches the stars. The cottage is far enough from town that the night sky is dark, the stars numerous and bright. 

The moon waxes, and when it is full, Cody watches it rise up out of the ocean like an immense silver coin. In the distance, someone's dog howls, sharp and mournful. A dog, Cody thinks, might be nice. He thinks he'll think about it, and goes in to bed. 

In the morning, there is a basket woven of dunegrass on his front step, three long silver fish inside, and a handful of pale orange mushrooms nestled in a bed of leaves. Cody just stares. Finally, he shrugs, gathers up his gift, and brings them inside. He fires up the computer he hasn't used in over a week and identifies the mushrooms as saffron milksaps - it's been a while since his survival training taught him things like foraging, and it's always safest to check, especially with fungi. The variety is edible, but likely to turn his meal orange. He shrugs, and nibbles the edge of one experimentally. It tastes alright, so he turns on the stove and makes himself a mushroom omelette.

When he's done with his breakfast, the best he's had in quite some time, Cody gets out his knife and handily guts and filets the sea trout. They're incredibly fresh, as if pulled from the water and delivered directly to his door. He divides the filets into chunks about the right size for a single serving, and ends up with twelve pieces, which is enough that he'll be eating it at every meal for the next few days, and some might still go to waste if he doesn't freeze it. He wishes he knew who left it, so he could at least invite them to dinner and share the bounty. 

Cody panfries some of the trout for his lunch, and makes a half decent mushroom sauce to go with it. There's enough sauce leftover that he eats the same thing for dinner. In the morning, he has fish and eggs for breakfast. For lunch and dinner, he sears the trout with enough spice to make his nose run, and eats it with rice. 

On the third day, inspiration strikes, and he makes a big batch of fish soup. It's not bad for a first attempt, and he uses up enough of the fish he thinks he might not actually have to throw any away. He jars the extra soup and sticks it in the freezer, hoping it'll keep well that way.

One of the last three servings of fish gets steamed and turned into a salmon-salad sandwich. When he's finished it off, he decides not to do that again. It isn't that it's bad. It just seems a waste of perfectly good fish, and an awful lot of work. The last two servings are breakfast and dinner respectively, the first eaten with eggs, the later with pasta in garlicky sauce. 

After having fish as his main source of protein for more than half a week, Cody is rather happy to make himself chicken when he finishes off the trout. Still, it was good fish, and free, and he has a half dozen servings of fish soup in his freezer for when he doesn't think he'll go nuts if he has one bite of fish. 

A week or so after the fish episode, as Cody has taken to mentally filing it, he starts seeing footsteps on the few sandy areas of the beach. Most of the shore is stones and pebbles, but there are occasional little patches of sand. By the footsteps, the other person is probably around his own size, but Cody knows he's on the shorter side of average, so he's not sure if it's an average height man or a tall woman. 

Cody had thought there wasn't anyone else living near him, and the next time he goes into town, he asks, curious if there's a neighbor near his cottage. The idea is less offputting now than when he first moved in. The villagers go very quiet when he asks, and look away. He's the only one living out in that direction, they reassure him, and Cody's fairly sure they're lying. He wonders why - if they're protecting someone, or just unwilling to give up their local secrets. He's an outsider after all. 

After that, Cody keeps a closer eye on his surroundings when he walks. He's started foraging his own mushrooms, and finds a few of the saffron milksaps, and a few other edible varieties. There's dandelion, wood sorrel, and watercress too, and what he thinks might be cow parsley, but he isn't confident enough to pick it, for fear of it being hemlock after all. It's the wrong time of year for berries, but he marks a few patches of brambles and stands of elder for the fall. Seaweed is plentiful, and he samples the different types, mentally noting his favourites.

The nightmares that have dogged Cody since his last deployment slowly fade. He likes the quiet of his little cottage, the incessant lapping of the waves providing soothing whitenoise. The moon comes full again, and Cody falls asleep listening to the crying of that same dog as last month. He wakes to the terrific sound of the ocean thundering up the beach, and rain pounding against the roof. When he stumbles to the door and throws it open, the waves rush into the cottage, cold water tumbling sand over his toes. 

"Well fuck," Cody says, and then realizes the sand isn't the only thing carried on the incoming tide. There's a small dory tossing on the waves, and he can't tell if it's manned or not. He hopes not. Just in case, he dresses in warm clothes and shoves his feet into a pair of wellies. When he opens the door again, the waves are ankle high and rising, and the dory is closer. Close enough to see a single pale hand hanging limply over the gunwale. 

Cody curses again. He's going to have to go out there. He strips off half the clothing he just put on, then wades out into the surf. Thankfully there's a dangling painter he can grab hold of, and the seabed is normally shallow enough that the dory is in water only about chest deep. On a calm day, it would be beached. He grabs the painter, and thanks whatever fates are listening that the tide is working with him.

The painter is long enough that Cody can lash the dory to the wrought iron lamp that juts out of the stone wall of his cottage at the front door. His entire body aches, and the waves are nearly up to the windows. Cleaning out the floor of the cottage is going to suck. 

Cody sighs, then looks into the dory. He blinks, then again. Warily, he reaches out, touching. What he'd half thought a hallucination and half thought a very odd fashion choice is - is actually an exceedingly wolfish head on the body of a very hairy man. The hands and feet - and everything else save a bedraggled tail - are human. And Cody can see everything else, because the wolfman isn't wearing a stitch of clothing. Tucked in the bow is a dunegrass basket piled high with freshly caught sea trout. 

Part of Cody's mind doesn't want to accept what he's seeing. He's always been the practical sort, not given to flights of fancy. But that is definitely a wolf's head on a man's body. The dark red brown fur covering the head goes all down the wolfman's back. 

A soft whimper startles Cody from his daze. He's stood there staring long enough that the tide has turned, and the dory pulls at the painter. Gently, Cody reaches into the boat and lifts out the wolfman. He's not light - around Cody's height and well built, although perhaps a bit underfed given the prominence of his vertebrae and ribs. 

Cody carries the wolfman into the house, then grabs the basket and double checks that he's not leaving anything else behind, in case the dory breaks its line and gets pulled out to sea. He bolts the door, then wades through the ankle deep water on the floor to the hearth. Thankfully the firebox is raised a bit, so he builds up a fire before stripping out of his wet clothing. He wraps himself in one blanket, his guest in another, and puts on the kettle for tea, then gets to cleaning the fish. He's not really sure what else to do, but he's learned to appreciate a hot cup of tea, both to warm his insides and calm his mind. 

The storm rages until well after mid day, but slowly the wind dies down, and the waves retreat back down the strand. Cody can see the barest streak of crimson sunset beneath the clouds when he hears the soft shuffling of his guest. He puts the kettle back on, and wraps a whole but gutted fish, its innards stuffed with salt and herbs, in seaweed, then tin foil, then slides it into the hot coals of the fire. 

"Here," Cody says as the wolfman sits up a bit in the bed, looking around wide eyed. "Do you like tea?" 

The wolfman blinks, and then his tongue lolls out as he nods, giving a lupine smile. Cody thrusts the mug into the wolfman's hands, and tries not to stare as that long pink tongue laps the tea up. A bowl, he thinks, probably would have been easier, but he can't help but wonder if that might be offensive. 

"I'm cooking up some of your fish, I hope you don't mind," Cody says, gesturing to the fire, and the wolfman shakes his head. Their pale eyes glint in the dimming light, but there is a keen intelligence there, something very human. The world, Cody thinks, is a strange place. 

They sit in awkward silence until the fish finishes cooking, and Cody divides it between them. The wolfman accepts his plate and eats neatly with knife and fork, further evidence that this is no wild creature. 

"Was that enough?" Cody asks. While he plated approximately a quarter of the fish for himself, he gave the wolfman half, and every bit of it was eaten. The wolfman nods, then mimes drinking from a cup. "Water okay?" Cody asks, and the wolfman nods again. Cody fetches the water, then clears up their dishes and puts the leftovers in the fridge. As he does the dishes, the full moon slips up over the horizon, the clouds having dissipated enough he can see its faint, silvery glow. 

The wolfman whines, and when Cody looks back over, everything that was _man_ to his guest is gone. A massive red-brown wolf with a creamy white face and belly sits on his bed, the blanket still draped loosely around his shoulders. Cody stares for a moment, and finally thinks _sure, this might as well happen_. 

"Is this a night time thing?" Cody asks, his voice creeping up a bit in pitch. Because the wolf appears friendly, hasn't made any threatening moves, but that is a very large wolf. He probably weighs about the same as Cody, but has a much _much_ larger jaw. And a lot of very pointy teeth. It's the same head as earlier, only his body shifted, but it's somehow much more intimidating on a creature indistinguishable from a wild wolf. The wolf tilts his head slightly to the side, as if seeking clarification.

"Do you - change? Every night?" Cody asks, and the wolf shakes his head side to side. "Not every night?" he asks, and the wolf nods. "Just certain nights." The wolf nods again. "Full moon," Cody says, more to himself, but the wolf nods anyway. "Werewolf?" he asks, voice pitching up again, and the wolf snorts, shaking his head rather emphatically. "Sorry, sorry," Cody says, getting the impression he may have insulted the very large wolf on his bed. 

The wolf snorts again, then stands, turning slightly to grab the blanket. He jumps from the bed, the water that still covers the floor splashing around his big, pale forepaws and darker hindpaws. He jumps again, up onto the kitchen table. The table protests creakily, but holds. The wolf nests with the blanket, laying his big head on his damp front paws, and yawning widely. 

"Bedtime huh?" Cody asks, and the wolf barks. Cody can't help but smile. "Wake me if the ocean tries to come in again," he suggests, and then goes about banking the fire for the night, and getting ready for bed. His bedding is a bit damp, and smells of brine and wet ~~dog~~ wolf, but it's sort of nice to hear the soft breathing of the wolf on the other side of the room. That probably says something about Cody's decision to become a hermit, but he's too tired and overwhelmed by the strangeness of the day to analyze it.

Cody wakes in the morning to the sound of someone moving quietly about. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and finds the wolfman preparing breakfast at his stove. It smells like fish again. He doesn't think he minds too much. For a long moment, he just watches. It's clear the wolfman knows what he's doing, and the whole thing is just so incongruous that Cody has to accept it as reality.

Swinging his feet down to the floor, Cody stares. All the water from the day before has been mopped up, the sand and seaweed and debris swept out. His cottage is in excellent condition, and he has a feeling his guest is responsible for that.

"Thank you," Cody says, rising and pulling on a pair of trousers. "You didn't have to clean up." The wolfman turns slightly, and shrugs, giving him that lupine smile. He gestures at the mug sitting on the table, and when Cody goes over, it's full of hot, strong tea. "Thanks," Cody says, and sits, cradling the mug in his hands. The wolfman raises his own mug in toast, then flips the fish onto a pair of plates and delivers them to the table. 

They eat quietly. Cody can't help looking up every so often, watching the wolfman. Bright sunlight streaming in the windows lights his fur with copper and gold. Finally the question he's been turning over since the day before bubbles up out of his mouth. 

"Is - is it you who walks the beach? I think I've seen your footprints in the sand, but the people in town - weren't very helpful." 

The wolfman nods, then lets out a huff of something like laughter. He tilts his head, then raises his hands, and signs. Cody shakes his head. 

"Sorry, I don't know any sign besides the signals they teach in the army," Cody says, and the wolfman sighs audibly. Mentally, Cody makes a note to look sign language up on YouTube. The wolfman mimes writing, and Cody smiles, then rises and finds a notepad and pencil for him. 

_I live further up the shore, on the cliffs_ , the wolfman writes. _My people have lived there and protected the village for a long time, but I'm the last._

Cody nods. It must be lonely, he thinks, to be the last of one's kind. His own isolation is by choice, and while it seems the townsfolk protect the wolfman to a degree, they do so by isolating him further. 

"Well, I'm glad to have met you, even if the circumstances were - not optimal," Cody said, and the wolfman snorted. "For future reference though, if you bring me more than two fish at a time, you have to come to at least one meal to help me eat them." For that, he got a flash of that sharp-toothed, lupine smile, and congratulated himself. 

After breakfast, they clean up together, standing shoulder to shoulder at the sink. Cody washes, then hands the dishes to the wolfman, who dries and sets the dishes back in the cupboard. It doesn't take them long to get the kitchen squared away. 

"I imagine you want to check on your skiff?" Cody asks, and the wolfman nods. The dory is still tied up to the lamp, but it sits on tide-washed stone now, and Cody grimaces at the thought of carrying it down to the shore. He reaches up and tugs at the painter. It takes some work to undo the salt-crusted knot, and they go over the boat carefully to make sure that being left behind by the tides hasn't damaged the hull. 

Together, they half carry, half drag the skiff down to the shoreline. Cody narrows his eyes, scanning the interior. There's no dunegrass basket, only a pair of shipped oars. 

"What did I say about leaving me more than two fish?" Cody demands, and with a bark that gives the impression of a laugh, the wolfman pushes the dory into the surf, back muscles rippling under his fur as he builds up speed, crashing through the breakers and hauling himself over the gunwales. With a jaunty wave, the wolfman settles his oars in their locks, and begins to pull. The dory heads out into deeper water, then turns away from town, following the coast. With a sigh, Cody shrugs, then heads back to the cottage. 

The rest of the day feel surprisingly lonely. Cody goes for a walk along the shore, and watches the gulls bobbing on the waves. He remembers he had thought about getting a dog, and although the howling was probably the wolfman, a dog might still be a good idea. He's a bit grumpy when he goes to bed that night, and wakes feeling very alone in the world. 

Cody drifts through his day. He takes a foraging trip up into the woods, but this time his loneliness has a form. He wonders if the wolfman walks these same paths, gathering elderflowers in the spring and rowan in the fall. 

When Cody returns to his cottage at midafternoon, he stops short. There's a man settled on his doorstep. And it _is_ a man, but the shoulder-length sweep of his hair is a familiar shade of rust, the sunlight adding glimmers of copper and gold. The man turns, and the eyes match too, bright grey ringed by long lashes. A pair of triangular ears perk up from where they were hidden in that unruly mane of hair, and the man smiles, showing off teeth just sharp enough to make Cody's animal hindbrain aware that this is a predator. 

"Hello," the man says. "I'm Obi-Wan. I believe I have an invitation to dinner?" Cody blinks, then again, before dissolving into incredulous laughter. 

"Come in," Cody says, and goes to put the kettle on.

**Author's Note:**

> obi-wan is sort of a mix between a wulver, a benevolent scottish wolfman that doesn't transform at all and leaves fish for their friends, and a standard werewolf that shifts between human and wolf on the full moon. for obi-wan, that means he's (mostly) a man most of the time, but during the full moon he's a wolf while the moon is up and a hairy wolfman during the day.


End file.
